


Too Much Of A Good Thing

by howsthismylife



Category: Stackson - Fandom, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Eventual Fluff, Fluff, Hidden Relationship, M/M, Stackson - Freeform, stackson lives!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 06:38:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3317702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howsthismylife/pseuds/howsthismylife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stiles found out that someone had leaked a video of him and Jackson making out in the locker room, he panicked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Much Of A Good Thing

**Author's Note:**

> I got this prompt from tumblr and months later I decided to write it.
> 
> this is not beta read so I'm sorry for the errors.

 

When Stiles walked into his school’s hallway he raised an eyebrow at everyone who’s looking at him. Usually no one had bothered to neither greet him nor even look him in the eyes like he was the current topic the school’s gossip mill had. Bewildered, he went straight to his locker to get some things when his best friend came running toward him panting his name.

            “Dude, breathe.” He said, smirking then frowning when he noticed Scott’s confused and worried face. “What happened?”

            Scott took several deep breaths which meant that he had run the moment Stiles texted him he was on school grounds. “The gym,” Scott said, “You . . .” inhale, exhale, “And Jackson . . .” inhale, exhale, “Making out in the locker room.”

            Stiles didn’t really know what to make out of his best friend’s antics but he was a smart teenager with excellent observation skills for his age to know that something had happened. And the mention of Jackson’s name sent his mind into overdrive that his mouth gaped open realizing partly of what was going on.

            “What.”

            Allison then appeared next to Scott with an apologetic look in her eyes. Although Stiles didn’t really know what she had to apologize for. 

            “Someone played a video of you and Jackson making out in the men’s locker room.” Allison explained, rubbing his boyfriend’s back smoothly. Stiles eyes went comically wide.

            “Fuck,” he muttered, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, shit, fuck, fuck.”

            “Wow, your vocabulary really amazes me, Stiles.” To his side, Lydia said. Stiles had almost had a heart attack. Lydia had her perfectly plucked brow at him and she had this knowing look on her eyes.

            His legs suddenly felt weak, like they were ready to give in any moment now. He had been careful—they had been careful. Stiles looked at Lydia assessing his current situation. Lydia and Jackson had been a thing and Stiles wasn’t sure if Lydia discovering that he and her ex-boyfriend were somehow a thing was something he needed help for or something he should make a run for. But the way Lydia was looking at him now with hints of concern and worry Stiles shoulder’s eased a little.

            “What am I gonna do now?” Stiles mostly whispered to himself but clearly his friends heard him.

            “Well, you could start telling us how it happened?” Lydia said and Stiles could do anything but comply.

 

\--

 

“So you’re saying that it started after last year’s championship game months after we broke up?” Lydia mused and he nodded. They were at the cafeteria where his other friends joined them but no Jackson.

            “And that Scott knew,” Lydia continued, “And because Scott is practically tied to Allison, he told her.” He nodded and Lydia partly glared at her best friend for keeping things from her to which Allison rolled her eyes at. Let it be known that Lydia Martin doesn’t want things kept from her.

            “What are you gonna do now?” Isaac asked. “I mean, let’s all be honest here, Jackson’s not the kindest guy in the campus.”

            “He’ll probably deny everything,” he said, rashly. “He’ll probably tell everyone that it was just a dare to humiliate me.” Stiles froze at the thought. What if Jackson denies everything and tells him it’s all over? He hadn’t really mulled over it but the thought of losing his relationship, no matter how complicated it was, with Jackson hurts him. And when the realization hits him that after almost a year of secret meetings and stolen kisses he really, really liked Jackson Whittemore his eyes began to water.

            He bowed his head and tried his best to control his breathing that’s currently threatening to become a full panic attack. He didn’t care if anyone was looking—they probably weren’t considering Lydia and Erica’s deadly glares and Boyd’s protectiveness over his friends.

            His friends must have noticed though, because they all moved closer to block him from everyone else. Scott sat beside him coaching him to breathe while the others pretended to chat just to lessen the humiliation he was currently feeling.

            “We’re here for you, Stiles.” Allison said.

            _But he’s not here now._ He thought. Jackson was probably too humiliated and embarrassed that he skipped school together with Danny.

            He stayed like that, shoulders hunched, head bowed, for a while after he had normalized his breathing thanking everyone for sticking to him when the bell rang. Stiles ignored the other students standing and chatting their way out of the cafeteria, he could only hear his heart which was beating rather rapidly that he thought it might pop out at any minute.

            After the rest of the students were gone, his friends started packing up and Stiles wiped his eyes and his face and excused himself to go to the bathroom. The others understood and Scott accompanied him.

 

\--

 

Stiles didn’t attend their lacrosse practice. He was feeling tired and with a mixture of embarrassment and anxiety flowing through him, Stiles really couldn’t bring himself to face anyone that afternoon. So he went straight home while Scott told him that he’d cover for him.

            The drive back home was filled with him over thinking things. He had really liked Jackson Whittemore throughout the course of their secret relationship. No matter how douche-y the guy could sometimes be, Jackson seemed to have a soft spot for him. Although Stiles doesn’t know if he was reading things wrong and that Jackson was only nice to him because he was his fuck buddy of some sort or something or if Jackson really had feelings for him. They’ve never really talked about it.

            Jackson’s porche was not in the school’s parking lot. Which meant that Jackson had never gone to school, or that he did and got the news of the video and decided to go home. It added to Stiles’ anxiety that he didn’t know what Jackson was thinking. All the things that were going through his head were how Jackson would be thinking. And Stiles had found out throughout the months that, no matter how vulgar and vocal Jackson could get, he was a hard person to read.

            It brought Stiles back to the first time Jackson had cornered him in the locker room once after their practice where everybody had left. There was this unsure look on Jackson’s face; eyebrows pinched, a frown on his lips, and clenched jaws. At first Stiles thought that Jackson would ram him into one of the lockers for whatever reason but Stiles was caught off guard.

            “6pm, Saturday, at Uncle Bob’s diner,” Jackson had said. “Don’t be late.”

            “Uh . . .” was all he could say.

            “Don’t. Be. Late.” Jackson said.

            And then he left, leaving Stiles confused. But Stiles being Stiles, he went after Jackson as Jackson was getting into his car.

            “What do you mean 6pm, Saturday, at Uncle Bob’s?” he said. “Is there a celebration I didn’t know about? Because if there is, and if it’s free, then I’m down. I’d be stupid enough to decline free food. Especially Uncle Bob’s free food.”         

            “Don’t make me repeat myself, Stilinski,” Jackson said. “Just go to the damn diner or I will smash your windshield.”

            “Hey! No hurting my baby!” he said. But he wasn’t sure if Jackson had heard him because Jackson had already closed the door and started his engine. “I’m serious!”

            The last thing Stiles heard was the porche’s horn before it disappeared into the road. He felt confused but he just shrugged his shoulders.

            Stiles decided not to come that Saturday. Free food be damned.

 

Stiles chuckled bitterly remembering the look on Jackson’s face the following Monday. He was almost home now. He still have assignments to do but he felt too emotionally tired to do them, and by just thinking of doing his assignments had made him even more tired.

            Scott texted him saying that coach had bought whatever reason his best friend had given to Finstock. Scott also told him that Jackson and Danny weren’t in practice, and surprisingly, Greenberg. Although Stiles could care less about Greenberg right now because Jackson wasn’t in practice either and he never misses a single day of practice unless someone was dying—which Stiles knew there weren’t.

            Stiles just sighed audibly and continued on his drive.

            “What the fuck, Stilinski?” Jackson had said. He and Scott were under the benches that lunch on Monday morning when Jackson appeared.

            “Uh . . . what did I do now?” he said.

            “You know what I mean,” there was this pained expression on Jackson’s face that Stiles thought was funny.

            “Dude, what the hell is your problem,” Scott had said.

            “Scram, McCall,” Jackson sneered.

            “It’s okay, Scott.” Scott slowly walked away watching the both of them.

            “Now, what seems to be the problem here, Mr. Whittemore sir?” he said when Scott was out of earshot.

            “You didn’t come last Saturday,” Jackson hissed.

            “Uh, I was busy.”

            “Bullshit,” Jackson spat. “You were just lazing around playing video games all day.”

            “I don’t know how my presence—wait, how’d you know I was playing videogames all day?” he said.

            “Everybody knows you always play videogames when there’s no school.” Jackson scoffed.

            “My friends know I play videogames when there’s no school,” he said. “Last time I checked we are not friends.”

            Jackson was clenching his jaw hard like it was painful for him to stand just a couple of feet away from him. Then Jackson had mumbled something inaudible and Stiles had asked what it was.

            “I said . . .” Jackson huffed, then in a low voice he said, “We could be friends.”

            Stiles really didn’t know what to say to that. So he stuttered and blabbered about nonsense things until Jackson’s patience ran thin.

            “Look,” Jackson sighed. And it was a marvelous thing to witness—Jackson sighing for reasons other than annoyance to Stiles. “This Saturday, at Uncle Bob’s, just come.”

            “What time?” he caught himself saying. Jackson unclenched his jaw then clenched it again.

            “Lunch.”

            Stiles gave it a shot and went that Saturday.

            And they had started hanging out without everyone’s knowledge except for his best friend—which eventually, predictably, told his girlfriend.

            And then one night, Stiles woke up with a realization that he liked hanging out with Jackson and that he had, unconsciously, started to like Jackson as a person. It hit him by surprise like being dumped with an ice cold bucket of water—startling you at first until it awaken all your senses.

 

When he reached their driveway he noticed that a car was parked on the spot where his dad’s cruiser usually parked. At first he thought that it was Lydia but his heart started hammering with the realization that it was Jackson’s. And when Stiles had parked his jeep beside it, Jackson came out of his car. He was wearing his BHHS hoodie, with his hands in its pockets. There’s a look of tiredness in his eyes, and a worried expression on his face that Stiles had come to hate.

            “Hey,” Jackson nodded.

            “Hey,”

            Stiles was planted to the ground, unable to move, unable to think what to do next. Should he hug him? Should he kiss him? Or should he go back to his jeep and drive to his best friend’s house and seek refuge?

            “So,” Jackson started. “How was your day?”

            _How was my day?_ Anger rushed through him. Jackson wasn’t at school the whole day. He had to go through shit, fought of a threatening panic attack, and got exhausted by over thinking a lot of things. Stiles would very much likely to shout at Jackson but he couldn’t bring himself to because Stiles was tired, he was tired of thinking, was tired of feeling, and was tired of just about everything.

            “Look,” he said. “If you’re here to end it then just do it quickly because I’m tired and I still have things to do.

            “What the fuck are you talking about?”

            Stiles clenched his teeth and sighed. “The video? Us, making out? Our relationship? If we were indeed in a relationship—I don’t really know.

            “I understand if you want to end things between us now because of your popularity status or whatnot, and because you don’t want people knowing you’re dating me. I mean, who, in their crazy mind, would date someone like me? Even I wouldn’t date me! We had fun—fuck this year had been so much fun with you, you have no idea.

            “I—I just wanted to say, before you end things and break my heart into tiny little pieces, that I like you.” He flailed, laughed bitterly that his eyes started to water. “I really, really like you Jackson Whittemore.

            “Now, you can go to school tomorrow, tell everyone of your friends that it was all a dare or a prank or whatever it is you want to tell me for my embarrassment because right now—ow!”

            Jackson pinched him in his arm. He used to do that when Stiles went off rambling uncontrollably, especially when he’s without medicine. It hurts just like it hurts knowing Jackson wouldn’t do that to him anymore.

            “You’re rambling,” Jackson shrugged. There was a hint of smirk on his lips that made Stiles eyebrows crunched.

            “When I found out about the video,” Jackson continued in a soft voice, “I was worried how it would affect you. And I don’t know—I got mad, Danny calmed me down, told me he would help me find out who’s responsible for it. So we went on a wild goose chase to find the bastard and maybe knock him out, you know.”

            Jackson took his hands, laced his fingers on his own like it was his, and continued, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to comfort you or whatever. You know I’m not good with those kinds of things. So I decided to hunt that little shit down because I was so mad and people were whispering and I wanted to punch them all but there’s this annoying voice in my head telling me that it wouldn’t help, that Stiles would get mad if I hurt anyone,” he smiled, “So I let everyone talk. I don’t fucking care what anyone thinks of me, or you, or us.

            “In the end we found out who leaked the video,” Jackson tilted his head and clenched his jaw, “And you’ll never guess who it was.”

            “Who?”

            “It’s fucking Greenberg.”

            “Are you fucking serious?”

            “That’s what I thought!”

            And they laughed. Not because it was funny but because all the negative thoughts that pestered Stiles throughout the day was wiped out by Jackson’s touch. And that Jackson had proven to be somewhat invested in their relationship. And, also, because no one knew that Greenberg was capable enough on pulling a stunt like that.

            And it gave Stiles the courage to say what he wanted to mean. Something that had been overshadowed by the secrecy of their relationship. Something he didn’t realize until Jackson was standing in front of him with a promise of a future with no secrets.

            “I think I love you.”

            Stiles wasn’t nervous anymore. He exactly knew what Jackson was thinking and feeling at the moment. And by the way Jackson’s lips turned into a smile, he knew. And because Stiles knew that Jackson Whittemore would never do something this touching and say the sappiest thing Stiles had heard him say.

            “I think I love you, too.” Jackson whispered. Then he leaned and kissed Stiles. He kisses him back with craving. They exchanged silent conversations with their kiss like 5th graders do with their papers. He kissed Jackson because he could now, in the open.

            They were too busy with each other that they didn’t notice the Sheriff’s presence until his dad had coughed and patted Jackson on his back saying, “I hope you boys haven’t had dinner yet because we’re having one, and we’re having one right now.” And to Stiles he said, “You, young man, have a lot of explaining to do.”

            When the Sheriff had gone inside the house, the two of them laughed.

            “I guess its official now,” he said.

            “I guess it is.”

**Author's Note:**

> I really don't know how to end this one. My brain is tired.
> 
> Kudos and comments are appreciated. :)  
> Let me know what you think.  
> bad writing is bad writing


End file.
